


Courtship

by navaan



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Backround Amara Perera/Tony Stark, Complicated Relationships, Invincible Iron Man Vol 2 (2015), Kissing, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Sexual Content, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are never straightforward. Not with him being Iron Man and sure as hell not with Victor von Doom suddenly wanting to prove he can be a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courtship

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Courtship|求爱（原作：navaan）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675756) by [QIANq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QIANq/pseuds/QIANq)



> Started this before the RBB and then got sidetracked. But now it absolutely needs to be out before Marvel pulls out this rug beneath my feet. :P
> 
> You can also read this story and comment on it on Livejournal [here](http://navaan.livejournal.com/290698.html). Feel free to friend or contact me there.

It takes him being pushed against a wall, a mouth pressed to his and a tongue forcing its way in, for things to finally click.

That is - _first_ his mind goes blank and while Victor von Doom of all people kisses him like he's the most desirable thing on this plane of existence, making his knees go weak and his heart beat faster with a sudden frantic flutter, he can just stand there, glad the wall is supporting his weight and his right hand has managed to catch one of Victor's elbows and he's holding on for added support.

Victor doesn't seem to mind at all, closing the last bit of distance between their bodies as he pushes his arms around his back and pulls Tony flush against himself, changing the angle of the kiss to something even hotter, and Tony can't help himself.

He kisses back.

When Victor finally pushes away, Tony feels hot all over and he knows his cheeks are probably an embarrassingly obvious shade of red.

But Victor, the bastard, only looks calm and unruffled, just like always; perhaps he is breathing a little faster and his lips are a little redder, but Tony wouldn't know, because it's not like he _studied_ this new appearance of Victor von Doom _in detail_. _God, who am I kidding?_ he thinks. It's absolutely unfair, that now Victor doesn't just look infuriatingly handsome, no, now he's still as unreadable as when he was wearing the mask and, damn it, Tony did so not need to know that he's a good kisser.

“Do you understand now?” Doom asks, and Tony can't help but think of him as anything but _Doom_ when he uses his deep and best Dr. Doom voice that reminds Tony of all the times they've faced each other as enemies. It makes a shiver go down his spine.

But the expression is earnest enough and searching and Tony - his heart still beating too fast, his cheeks still altogether too hot, still pressed with his back against a wall - thinks that sometimes he's an idiot.

A big, damn idiot.

This one is on him.

“It's still not good manners,” he says with what he hopes is a frown, sounding much too meek and out of breath.

Victor has the nerve to smile, take his left hand and pull it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. It's a very Victor thing to do, and if he wasn't still waiting for the other shoe to drop, then he'd probably find it charming.

Perhaps he does find it charming.

Just a little bit.

He sighs.

He may be losing this one big time. At least it all makes sense now, in a weird, confusing and annoying way. With how his life has a way of going, he might be led to believe that this is just perfect.

* * *

It all starts with meeting Victor in Latveria and infuriatingly finding himself back at the zoo in New York. Even looking back Tony feels like that isn't really the beginning, but it's certainly a very important shift. Victor von Doom is trying to be helpful and the only thing Tony can think about that at the time is: “Bullshit!” and even more infuriatingly, “He looks good now, really, really good.”

There are a couple of people he wants to call to tell them what just happened. Most of them aren't around, Reed and Sue, and Steve, who he only rarely talks to these days. He calls Stephen instead, because something is going on and it involves his least favorite thing: magic.

It's not the last he sees of Doom, and for the most part he thinks that is not a good sign. After all: Magic. With a capital M. But even he can't deny that “Victor” comes in handy in magical fights and that he – against all odds and expectations - _helps_. He can't trust that, of course. He's not a very trusting person at the best of times and this is Victor von Doom after all. Tony knows better. He watches his back constantly.

“Just be careful,” Stephen advises him for the fifth time or so after he gives him a run down of the latest little magical gung-ho battle episode. “We don't know what he's playing at.”

“I know, I know. He freaks me out with the constant appearing out of nowhere act he's been pulling off. He interrupted a breakfast date even.”

Stephen looks slightly exasperated when he looks at him now, while before he hadn't even really focused on Tony. “He interrupted a date?”

“With a very important woman, yes.”

“Just be careful. He sounds too... playful.”

“Playful?” The word choice makes Tony frown. For some reason it sounds both sinister and funny coming from Stephen when he's describing someone of the caliber of Doom. And it's just that he hasn't even thought of Victor's behavior in these terms.

Playful. Ha.

Some game is being played alright. Tony just hasn't figured out yet who holds the dice.

* * *

He does the thing where he pretends not to be Tony Stark, and wills people not to stare at him in the little coffee shop, as he stands in line waiting for his turn, all his attention on his Stark phone typing away and counting on the general ability of humankind to not see what's right in front of them. His work has been slipping between all the little villainous incidences and a new Avengers team coming together and saving the world and the city or whatever and whoever needs saving. There's a lot to catch up there and he types with his thumb as fast as he can, working through items on the list, that Friday has been shoving his way all morning. M.J. seems to be doing good work too.

When it's his turn he only looks up briefly to give the barista a distracted friendly smile and states his order. He's looking forward to the taste of a strong Brazilian blend on his tongue, when a deep slightly accented voice behind him says: “I'll have the same.”

His head snaps up and he knows who he's going to look at before he meets Doom's eyes.

“You were distracted,” Victor says and if Tony wouldn't absolutely know better he's inclined to say it sounds slightly apologetic.

“Obviously,” he says, as he grabs his coffee and is ready to flee the scene.

But Doom has no trouble keeping in step with him. Exasperated. Tony slows down. Friday could send him the armor, but he realizes that Victor could just magic him away right here and now if he wanted to. So he stops in the middle of the street and Victor stops right there beside him, takes a sip of his coffee and says: “This is quite good. For American coffee.”

It gives him the strangest thought of Victor Von Doom, Latverian tyrant supreme, ranting about the pros and cons of Starbucks and Latverian coffee culture if there indeed is one. “Better than Latverian coffee?” Tony asks, because the whole thing with Doom has become so unbelievable that joking seems like the only sane thing to do.

“Of course not.” He wrinkles his nose, which is new, and hilarious and – damn, it's just strange. Tony stares and then takes a sip from his own cup, deciding that it's so much easier to just move on with his life.

This day has just taken a day for the even stranger and he's going to pretend that stranger is normal.

Which mostly it is, he supposes.

“Were you going to walk home?” Victor asks as if that's some kind of affront.

“Why? Did you want to use me for target practice the moment I took off in the armor?”

The way the former dictator is staring at him can only be called unnerving. “Does that happen to you often?”

“Especially here,” Tony answers absentmindedly and takes another sip of his coffee.

“I was surprised. I expected a car to pick you up. But if not I wanted to suggest we walk together for a bit, but if your life is truly that dangerous even here at the heart of the city you call home, then I'm not sure Victor Von Doom should make himself more of a target. I enjoy not being recognized in New York. Does that happen to you often?” Victor has already fallen into step at his side again, and he is left to wonder when exactly his life has taken a turn for the truly insane. It isn't like life as an Avenger isn't throwing the crazy stuff at him every single day of the week and he's seen some truly unbelievable stuff in his time. He's _done_ the impossible occasionally. But coffee and a stroll through New York with Dr. Doom is enough to make him wonder if he's actually lying in a hospital bed somewhere in deep coma and this is all just his subconscious being imaginative and unhelpful. It sounds like the least crazy explanation he can think of.

* * *

It's the second time that Victor interrupts a date with Amara and Tony can't decide what is worse: that she seems genuinely pleased to see him or that Victor saves the evening for them, after supervillains attack Carnegie Hall and Iron Man and his new magical sidekick stop them, by offering them a shortcut to the Scala in Milano. Its fantastic and grand and so like Victor that it rankles Tony - because, yeah, it's exactly the fantastic and grand thing that Tony likes to dazzle people with; just that his dazzling would have involved a private jet and less magic. Less magic all around. It doesn't even annoy him when Amara smiles all excitedly at the choice of opera.

Tony likes to play the indifferent American. He lives his life with the kind of loud rock music that his parents – because that's still how he thinks of them – used to be annoyed by, but his mother still instilled a love for the arts in him, and he cherishes all the things she shared with him. He has a soft spot for good opera, that doesn’t perhaps range up there with his love for fast cars and dangerous lifestyles, but that is indeed some kind of _love_.

He's touched by this rendition of it, as he watches all the misunderstandings unfold around the marriage of Figaro and Susanna. It's Mozart and it's always easy to be touched by Mozart. So much emotion, so much perfection in showing the human imperfection. It makes for a diorama of the human condition.

It doesn't even matter that he's sitting between the woman he thinks he might be able to love and a man who used to be an enemy and still can't be trusted. He doesn't know his game yet, but he is sure Doom will show his hand soon. They always do in the end.

When all the misunderstandings are cleared up and everyone is finally again with the person they're supposed to be with, all the romantic partners reconciled with a figurative wink and light-hearted smile, he stands up to give his ovations. Amara smiles at him with that happy glow of someone who has been touched by a certain kind of magic for the first time and he feels Doom's eyes on them. It might all be about her. She's brilliant and smart and Doom has an uncanny knack for going after the brilliant smart ones, especially when someone else has an eye on them. He has spent enough years with Reed to know some of the more creepy stories there are to tell about Doom.

He hopes that the Fantastic Four will someday return from their extended family vacation outside this universe, so that Victor von Doom will remember that Reed is the one whose life he usually makes a misery, but he feels immediately bad about it.

“I would not have pegged you as a fan of Mozart,” Tony says with sharp nod, when Doom motions for them to leave their balcony seats before him, like a handsome, well groomed gentleman.

“It is satisfying in an unexpected way to see all the romantic entanglements solved so easily,” Doom says and quirks his lips. “Sometimes it needs a little deception for people to see the truth.”

“How...” Tony narrows his eyes, as he realizes that he's heard that tone of voice before, uttering things like “Kneel before Doom” and his hackles rise, just as a part of his treacherous mind has time to worry about how Doom is probably the more accomplished, perhaps even the more handsome date, at least tonight. “...very _you_ to see it that way.”

Doom watches him. He looks away. This game has become tiring, annoying. He hates it when he feels like he's one step behind his adversary, because it's part of who he is to predict the outcome of things and think up the solutions for problems as he goes along. And Doom has never been the kind of enemy you want to be ahead in any sort of game, because he will not stop even once at exploiting all your weaknesses and throwing you under the bus.

He can't wait to get back to his workshop and FRIDAY and building the stealth unit into a new and more sophisticated armor system. Tony Stark is not someone who gives up in the light of a bit of competition, but he also doesn't want Doom to treat lovely Amara like a convenient price, just to get one over on him. He may have to think about a tactical retreat on the romantic front at least for now.

A hand settles at the small of his back as Victor von Doom leads him out into the corridor after Amara who turns in her wonderful tight fitting dress and gives Tony a crooked smile.

“I hope you enjoyed the evening after all,” Doom says pompously.

Tony keeps back a growl and hurries along. It’s been a long day and there has been altogether too much magic and too much Doom playing the hero. 

What has the world come to?

* * *

Doom appears in his apartment and Tony nearly falls off his chair. He's wearing nothing but black track pants and a white, dirty tank top, while Doom is once again wearing an impeccably well kept suit and his hair is carefully brushed back like he's here to pick up a date. After years of hiding inside the armor with the medieval cape and hood, he is trying to make up for lost time or something.

“I'm sorry,” he says, standing right over Tony and sounding not the least bit apologetic, as he holds out a hand to help him up. “I didn't want to startle you.”

“You could try the doorbell. It works. I promise.” His mind is already going through three possible ways to defend himself if necessary and two enhancements to his security system to make future unexpected magical entries impossible. “Just dropping in someone's house isn't exactly good manners.”

“Would you let me in? If I rang the bell?” Doom asks and he has the fucking nerve to sound amused. Tony ignores his outstretched hand and pushes himself up on his own, glowering as he comes to a standing position. 

“FRIDAY?” he asks, “Can you tell me how the hell you let Doctor Doom inside my house?”

“He walked in,” the AI informs him with the level, undiscriminating tone _he_ has programmed her with. “He used magic,” she adds like an afterthought that can't be an afterthought. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony mutters. “I can see that.”

Doom smiles as if it's the funniest thing in the world.

“Rude behavior doesn't get you anywhere.” Tony is so not amused right now. “I have kind of a lot of things on my plate, so what is it that brings you here?”

Doom still smiles. “I've found a trace of your friend with the elaborate face mask.”

“This describes every second person I know, including you and me,” Tony returns flippantly and sits back on his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Try harder.”

“To do what?”

“Impress me.”

He has the distinct feeling he has said the wrong thing when Doom's smile just _changes_ , it's still there, but it's... something else – more secretive, more self-depreciating, more... gentle perhaps. It gives him goosebumps. None of it can be good.

“I hope to,” the man simply says, before popping out of the flat without even giving Tony the information he'd hinted at.

Typical.

Megalomaniacs.

All the same.

He should know.

* * *

When he walks past his favorite coffee shop Doom is already there, holding two paper cups. Tony freezes in his tracks. Victor von Doom. Got him coffee.

Something is seriously wrong here.

“You do realize that stalking isn't good manners either,” he says and although he knows he shouldn't he reaches for the cup. Perhaps there's already a spell on him. Anyway, he has the feeling he has to apologize to Amara again, for just dropping into her life without announcing himself. “I've been reminded recently how important it is to accept other people's boundaries.”

Doom watches him tolerantly as he falls into step beside him.

Tony still has no idea what to make of it.

He doesn't drop dead with the first sip of coffee though, so he'll take it as a good sign. Perhaps Doom _is_ making an effort to be a better person. He needs to figure it out and soon. For his own peace of mind.

* * *

Concrete is raining down on him, the next moment he's out of the building. His armor is nowhere in sight and he's still in his black business suit that is now dusted with a gray sheen of dirt. Victor has him by the wrist and looks at him like he's angry. “You need to be more careful.”

“Have you met me?”

“Over and over again,” Doom enunciates and it's so funny that Tony wants to laugh right in his face.

“I have no idea what you even want with me,” he points out through a coughing fit.

This is how he ends up pressed up against a wall, being kissed thoroughly.

Well, that answers the question at least.

* * *

Tony lives in the future. His head is always bent towards the angle, towards innovating and predicting what the world needs or doesn't know it might need soon. Sometimes he misses what's going on right here and now. But when a hard body slides over his own and he's pressed possessively into green silk sheets, his mind doesn't wander. He maps the movements, keeps track of the little sighs and gasps, and then allows himself to be caught up in the moment.

“Where were we?” he asks in a whisper, as Victor kisses a line down his throat.

“You wanted to teach me manners, I think. Although I have my doubts that you have anything to teach me there.”

“I think, you wanted to impress me.”

“Impressed?” Victor asks, sounding smug and pushing against him, between his spread legs, making him sigh.

Even now he can't let that stand. “There's always room for improvement.” 

He tries to live by that. And apparently Victor can't pass up a challenge. That's good information to have.

He's thoroughly impressed with his effort anyway, when he comes with an earth shattering cry. 

After Victor kisses a line down his back and it's a thrill to be exposed to him in such a vulnerable position. Perhaps he can overlook the stalking behavior and the lack of manners in the courting behavior of a former Latverian tyrant, if this is what he gets for it. 

After all...

He likes to live dangerous.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr ](http://navaan.tumblr.com/). This fic has a post [on there](http://navaan.tumblr.com/post/147495849249/fanfiction-marvel-616-courtship-doomtony-r) in case you want to comment/review/reblog there. [My ask box](http://navaan.tumblr.com/ask) is open if you have questions.


End file.
